A Puff in Snake's Clothing
by owlish quagmire
Summary: Hilde's just trying to be a nice person, but being sorted into Slytherin doesn't make things easy. After making a deal with a tiny devil, she's forced closer to the Marauders than she ever wanted to be. Oh, and it doesn't help that the infamous Sirius Black is foiling her plans every step of the way. Why wasn't she sorted into Hufflepuff again?
1. A Deal with the Devil

**Hi, guys! And when I say guys, I mean guys and girls obviously. So this is my attempt to do NaNoWriMo, or at least my version of it. This isn't going to be a novel, but it'll be the project I'm working on, so expect updates! Anyways, only Hilde belongs to me. And, I suppose, any other extraneous characters that I make up along the way. Cheers!**

"Get out," I snarled at the first-year, "of my seat. Now."

The first-year, a dark-haired boy with a large ears, merely blinked. His upper lip instinctively curled at my order, probably a honed response. "And why should I?"

"Because," I crossed my arms in front of me, "because I'm your elder, you little, you little-"

And that's where my mind went blank. Completely out of words, completely out of insults, completely out of comebacks.

Blank.

"Wow." The first year cocked his neatly-groomed pureblood head of hair. "That was pathetic. I think my house elf can come up with a better comeback than that."

"Whatever, you- you," I stuttered, "brat! Just vacate the armchair before I make you!"

"And how exactly are you going to do that? You can barely spout out a sentence." He settled further into the comfy, green chair in question. It was my spot in the common room, the only place I'd been able to carve out for myself in the past six years I'd been at Hogwarts. Sitting in the corner of the common room, it was next to the one of the few torches in the room, as well as a small, circular porthole that emanated green light from the depths of the lake. Occasionally, I'd even see the Giant Squid outside and wave, because that's the way I was raised.

Niceness. Politeness. Goodness.

They had no place here. And yet, I still couldn't seem to give them up.

"Look," I said. "I know how this is going to go. I'm going to try and intimidate you, and I'll fail, and you're going to make fun of me and sneer and all that, but I'm just going to be straight with you. That's my chair, and I am not literally going anywhere until you get your little snake butt out of it, because I'm that loyal to it. So, please, just get off and save yourself some time unless you want to be constantly annoyed for the rest of the night, because I have no problem doing so."

He lazily blinked again, a blink I'd become very familiar with over the years. I internally sighed.

"I'll get up." He smiled, and I swore his teeth were sharpened to points, though that detail might've been in my head. "But on a couple of conditions. Let's make a deal."

I sighed, externally this time. "What's your price?"

He smiled, his first smile of the night. "Name first, please. I like to know who I'm doing business with."

I rolled my eyes. "How old are you again, kid? Like eleven?"

"Just tell me your name." He sniffed.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "Just tell me what you want."

"Your name," he growled, his brown eyes growing darker as they bored into me. "Otherwise, I _will_ sit here every day, and when I'm gone, I'll just get others to do the same. Your choice."

My eyes widened at the scenario he drew out. Never to have my spot again, my one comfort?

No. It wasn't an option, not even if the little serpent did back me into a corner.

For the umpteenth time in forever, I wished I could manipulate myself out of this situation or simply lie to get my own way. Maybe even bully him, a physical slap might even be involved. But unfortunately, none of those actions were in my nature. They were dormant, or perhaps absent. Missing, like a girl on a milk carton.

Being nice was my flaw.

"My name's Hilde," I breathed, raising my chin high. "Hilde Hufflepuff, actually. Now what's your price?"

The cat, or owl, or even toad, was out of the bag, so to speak.

His jaw dropped. I smiled a bit; the shock was always fun to play up, but the aftermath usually wasn't. I enjoyed it while I could. Where else would I get my fun?

"You're the Puff," he said, mouth still agape with wonder at my own darling presence. "They've told me about you. You're the heir of Hufflepuff that got sorted into Slytherin. How are you still alive?"

"Sweets, treats, and a lot of favors actually. But that's beside the point." I squinted at him. "Now what do you want, little snake?"

His reaction wasn't matching the usual ones I received. Instead of mockery or laughter or even jeering, he looked thoughtful, deeply pensive. He sat on my armchair straight upright, his legs crossed underneath his green and black robes, making him appear like a miniature Yoda. The amount of wrinkles on his scrunched up forehead was almost comical.

"I'd like a favor," he said with a dead serious face. "You're a Prefect, right?"

"Correct." I gritted through my teeth. I hated abusing my abilities as a Prefect, but if it guaranteed the stability of my spot, I could do it for one little boy. "What about it?"

"I fancy a girl." His dark eyes shone up at me, and I stared at him uncertainly in return. "I'd like you to put me in her good favor and get her to go on a date with me."

Oh. A date.

Not exactly what I was expecting.

"Look, kid," I said, "I'm not a miracle worker or a matchmaker; I'm just a sixth-year Prefect; besides, what's so hard about asking her out yourself? You seem confident enough….I can tell at least you don't think girls have cooties anymore. That's progress."

"I don't think you understand." He rolled his eyes at me. "It's a bit more complicated than that. I'll need all of your abilities to make this work."

"And why's that?" I waited for the punchline. Any second now… just please don't be Professor McGonagall, don't be Professor McGonagall, don't be Professor McGonagall…

"She's a Gryffindor," he said.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, not McGonagall, no, no…

"And she's James Potter's cousin," he concluded with a sigh. "Amelia Potter. But he won't let Slytherin near her, much less me. She just got Sorted this year like me, and he's been watching over her ever since."

"Brilliant." I snorted, pacing a bit back and forth across the embroidered rug on the floor. "And this somehow makes me more qualified than you how? I'm still a Slytherin, in case you haven't forgot."

"But you're different." He peered up at me, sneering as he said the words. "You're nice; you're a Sorting mistake. You really aren't Slytherin, but for some reason, you're here. You're qualified, because you break the boundaries. You put up a good face for Slytherin throughout all the other Houses, so no one would suspect you of any wrongdoing."

I glared at him. "You know, just because I'm nice doesn't mean that I can do anything I want. There are limits even for me."

"Oh, I know," he waved it off. "If it were an effective strategy, I'd use it all the time, but unfortunately, it can only work for a certain few. Personally, I think it takes too much effort, and it's not worth the measures it takes to keep up. I mean, smiling, honestly. Who has the time?"

"It's really not that hard," I said. "Plus, it puts people more at ease, so they'll smile back at you."

"And why would I want that?" He deadpanned, utterly serious.

Sometimes, (more often than not) I'd wondered if Slytherin students had any empathy at all. I'd suspected for a while that most were raised in households that preached strict pureblood mindsets, so I thought that somehow they must be all emotionally stunted in some way. Occasionally, I'd juggled the thought around to hold a feelings workshop for my House, but… Well, I felt my fellow snakes would sabotage me in some way. It was most unfortunate. I'd come up with quite a few trust exercises already.

"Because it's the friendly thing to do." I sighed, wishing I wasn't speaking to a tiny sociopath in my midst. "I don't like deceiving people, in case you haven't noticed."

"That's the brilliant thing about it, Puff," he said. "You'd mainly just be acting as a distraction. No deception, at all. You just have to buy me time without any interruption. It's simple, really. A child could do it."

"Then why don't you have one of your little friends do it for you then?" My eyes shifted to the porthole, catching a glimpse of movement. One of the squid's tentacles floated by, suctioning to the window for a second, and I swore it was trying to give me a signal. Like, squid talk for DON'T MAKE A DEAL WITH THIS LITTLE DEVIL!

"Friends," the kid scoffed, turning his head away from me to face the porthole as well. He observed the last suction cups of the tentacles sliding off the glass with an analytical eye. "Who needs friends? Friends are useless. All I need in life are allies."

My stomach bottomed out, and I gave the kid a hard stare. He looked scrawny in the emerald armchair, despite his attempts to intimidate me earlier. He was small for his age, thin, absurdly pale, and most likely only eleven (as I repeatedly tried to confirm). Attempting to remember my own experience at Hogwarts at eleven made me shudder. It was then that I made my decision. Of course, I didn't say it right that moment.

"So just distractions? Nothing else?" I asked, feigning my true emotions. But then again, I was curious.

He perked up slightly at my interest in the job and turned back to face me. "And perhaps a few small favors. Your status as a Prefect does give you some power, after all."

I grimaced slightly at the implied exploitation of power that I'd be abusing. My nerves started to act up, so I began to pace. I liked my responsibility. I liked roaming the halls at night to check for out of bed students. I liked my Prefect bathroom privileges. I liked to respect authority. I didn't want to lose my position. Besides, my badge was shiny. And it gave me the ability to take points away from little snot-nosed kids like the one in front of me.

"And how long exactly do you plan on this taking?" I queried, still pacing. This wasn't any favor, not a simple pass for being in the corridors too late at night or even a pardon for a detention. It was a commitment, an obligation. A binding to this kid, whoever he was. "Also, what's your name by the way? I can't keep referring to you as kid all the time."

"It'll take however long it takes for her to agree to go out with me." He snarked back at me, looking at his tiny fingernails poshly like a little king. "And it's Drexel Lestrange to you. As for the deal, you'll be granted this armchair as permanent property for your remaining years at Hogwarts. Are those fair terms?"

A Lestrange. Oh, Merlin. What was I getting myself into? I remembered bits and pieces of when the elder Lestranges, Rodolphus and Rabastan, went to Hogwarts during my first year, and they were not pleasant. In fact, all that came to memory was an image of myself with smashed cupcakes all over my face. I could only hope that as the youngest brother he would be a bit nicer. If not, well, I had the size advantage this time.

"I swear you're not eleven," I muttered under my breath. "You're a bit freaky, Lestrange, especially for a niblet."

"Do we have a deal, Puff?" he demanded, holding out his hand as if he were already an international magical businessman.

"Deal." I shook his hand, encompassing his small, pale hand with mine. His handshake was firm, and I took that as a hopeful sign. Hopefully, he wouldn't screw me over, lie to me, steal from me, or in general, do any manipulation to me, myself, and I. Hopefully.

Yes, hopefully the eleven year-old wouldn't turn on me. I had wishful thinking.


	2. A Breakfast-y Beginning

**Hi, guys! I'm back already! Here's the latest installment of A Puff in Snake's Clothing! Enjoy, and remember that Hilde, Drexel, and a couple others belong to me, but everyone else to J.K. Rowling. Cheers! Also, feel free to question, comment, and express any feelings that might occur to you in the reviews!**

"Which one is she?" I asked, stuffing eggs into my eager mouth. From my peripheral vision, I saw Drexel give me a very judgement look. Rolling his eyes, he pointed discreetly towards the Gryffindor table across the Great Hall, gesturing toward a small girl with wavy black hair. She was sitting amongst a few other girls, all of them adorned with the characteristic gold and red ties.

"And your target is there." Drexel adjusted his finger a couple inches to the left, motioning towards a certain James Potter that sat only about five seats down from his little cousin. Like Amelia, James shared the same black hair, granted it was a bit messier. He was currently snorting milk out of his nose with my fellow Prefect Remus Lupin pounding on the back with a worried smile on his face. Peter Pettigrew sat opposite from them, chuckling and shielding his mouth with knobby fingers. As for the final member of the Marauders, well, Sirius Black was merely sitting back and enjoying the show, full-out belly laughing at his struggling-to-breathe friend.

"And you just had to choose this girl?" I gave him a look. "James Potter's little cousin? Possibly the most overprotected girl in all of Hogwarts?"

"That's debatable, actually," Drexel retorted. "Potter keeps an eye on Lily Evans just as much or more so than Amelia."

"Well, she sounds like a good distraction to me," I said. "Maybe you should have asked her to be your accomplice."

Again with the Drexel eye roll. "Please. Evans cut all ties with the Slytherin house the day she rejected Snape. She would never agree to ally herself with me, especially if it meant having more of Potter's attention on her."

"She was nice to me in Potions last year when we were partners," I said. "We even went to Hogsmeade together once. It was fun."

"Is this story even relevant?" Sneering, Drexel delicately spooned some oatmeal into his mouth.

"Not particularly," I replied. "But it does mean that I could possibly employ Lily as a distraction if I ask her very nicely."

The spoon to Drexel's mouth froze in midair, and he turned to me with slightly widened eyes. "That might have possibly been the most Slytherin thing I've ever heard you say."

I frowned at him, forking some more eggs onto my plate. "I was trying to be helpful. Just because I don't act like a typical Slytherin doesn't mean that I'm completely dumb, you know."

He squinted his eyes at me. "Right. Well, the blonde hair is very deceptive. Thank Merlin, you don't have blue eyes, or I'd never be able to take you seriously."

"Thank you, miniature Dracula. That was very kind." My gaze swept back to the group of Marauders pensively. They'd all recovered from the near-choking incident and were now huddled together as if discussing some secret prank. That was their thing, of course. Pranks.

Not my cup of tea, obviously. Just considering to pull one over others made me feel guilty inside.

"So what exactly is the plan for today?" I queried, finally finishing up my eggs. Drexel had insisted as soon as I had woken up and stumbled down into the common room that we needed to talk strategy over breakfast this morning. So into the Great Hall we had went, and breakfast we had eaten.

"We start simple," he began, looking over to the Gryffindor table as I was, focusing in on his own target. "As soon as Amelia's finished with breakfast, she and her friends leave together and Potter typically follows, accompanied by his own lot. We each need to separate them. As soon as Potter stands, you need to go over and distract him from leaving for at least five minutes. When I see that you've captured his attention, I'll go catch up to Amelia and separate her from her friends."

"Just like that?" I questioned, giving him a weird smile. "What are you, a sheep dog? How are you going to separate a lot of giggling adolescent girls from one another?"

"I have my ways," he sniffed. "All you have to do is give me time. Five minutes minimum, but I'm expecting quality results."

"I'll try." I narrowed my eyes in on the Marauders, thinking of my game plan. I think I had my in. Possibly. Probably. Maybe. We'd see.

"Trying is for squibs," he sneered. "Do."

Turning, I faced the little snake with an unhappy look on my face. "That was rude. Don't say things like that. Squibs are people too, even if they weren't blessed with magic."

"It's what my father always says," Drexel droned boredly, as if he'd foreseen this conversation as soon as he'd said the words. "And my mother. And my brothers. And the whole rest of my family. It's a commonly known fact, Puff."

"I wouldn't believe everything you hear," I muttered. "Especially from your own family."

Sensing a change in tone, Drexel quirked an eyebrow at me, stopping to stare at me instead of Amelia for a second. "Ah, yes. And speaking of families, what did yours think of your Sorting? However does the great illustrious family of badgers handle with a snake in their midst?"

"They're fine with it." I smiled tightly. "It doesn't matter to them. I'm the same person; it's just a House."

"That's a lie if I ever heard one." He eyed me closer, his irises almost as black as his pupils. Drexel Lestrange truly resembled a vampire with his pale skin and dark features, and I was sure that I wasn't the only one to think this, especially with his bloodsucking personality. "Is that what they tell you?"

"It is what they tell me, because it's true," I said. "A House doesn't determine your whole life. It's a classification for school, nothing more, nothing less. It's meaningless; it doesn't say anything about the person you actually are."

"Doesn't it though?" He asked, putting his spoon down lightly into the correct 'finished' position. "The Sorting Hat puts us into the four Houses based on our strongest personality traits. It literally looks into our heads and sees the people we truly are behind all facades that we might put up for others to see. You don't think it bothers your family, your legendary family descended from Helga Hufflepuff herself, that instead of goodness and loyalty, all the Hat saw in you was ambition and a little bit of cunning? Because if you don't, you're a bigger fool than I thought you were."

"My family loves me." As much as I detested it, my voice rose in volume and pitch. "They don't care that I was Sorted into Slytherin."

"Perhaps they do love you," he said coolly, "but you'll always be a snake to them. Prejudice runs deep, especially in pureblood families, Puff. You shouldn't forget that, despite all your progressive Muggle and Squib thinking, your family is still one of them."

He was right. As much as I didn't want to admit it, he was absolutely and positively right. I was fighting a losing a battle; in fact, I had been for the past six years that I'd been Sorted into Slytherin. Sure, my family said those things, but…I could always sense the tone underneath. And the questions.

Where did we go wrong? How could she be Slytherin of all things? Of all the Houses? What does it mean? How is she different?

Of course, my parents and siblings never outright asked these questions, but I could always tell that they wondered. And how they still wondered. Even now.

Who was Hilde Hufflepuff? Sometimes I wondered the same thing myself.

But that didn't stop me from baking and smiling and saying nice and friendly things to people. In fact, it only seemed to increase my niceness. Well, somewhat. When I'd be home, I'd offer to do the dishes, help out around the house, even assist my parents with doing chores, and when I'd be at school, I'd do the same: baking cupcakes every week to put out in the Slytherin common room, help first years find their classes, make friendly remarks to fellow Slytherins that I knew hated me. So who was I really?

Who _was_ Hilde Hufflepuff? I had no idea.

I avoided a response by spotting a certain Amelia Potter rise out of her seat in tandem with her friends. "There goes your target, Lestrange."

Immediately, his eyes flew over and fastened on the object of his affection, then darted quickly left to track her elder cousin's progress.

"Now," he hissed at me, tilting his head towards the nearly standing Marauders. "Now, Puff!"

Giving a bright smile, I skipped away from the table, trying to get into the right mindset. The walk from the Slytherin to Gryffindor tables was long enough to compose myself for about ten seconds.

Distract James Potter. Distract James Potter. Distract James Potter. Distract. James. Potter.

I reached the red and gold table, taking care to make sure my smile was extra bright and friendly and approachable-looking. Then I took a deep breath and…

"Remus Lupin!" I practically shouted, bounding up to the Gryffindor table like it was my own House. I managed to stop right beside the boy in question, causing all four Marauders to stop and stare at me at once, freezing in their attempts of leaving the Great Hall. Also, Remus was conveniently sitting on the end, so my particular position drew their attention away from the entrance of the hall, where I could see a particular blasé Drexel quickly making his way through to follow his own Potter.

Five minutes. I could do this.

I regarded the four boys in front of me, still staring in shock. As if I was some unexpected twist of fate turned up at their doorstep. Well, I suppose I was in a way.

My smile seemed frozen into place; my mind internally calculating my next step. Heh.

"Hilde," Remus said hesitantly in greeting. His brown eyes appeared large looking up at me, and I could see that they were a bit bloodshot. "Hi. Uh, what brings you here?"

Five minutes, five minutes, five minutes, five minutes, five minutes, five minutes, five minutes…

"Prefect schedules," I chirped, trying to keep my energy high. "I seem to have lost mine actually, and I was wondering if I could look at yours. Somehow I misplaced mine a few days ago, and I can't find it for the life of me. I suspect some first year or someone took it while I was in the common room, because you never know, but really, though, how rude. I mean, I remembered that I didn't have any shifts for yesterday or the day before, but there's only so long I can go without knowing, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Remus said hurriedly, shuffling through his bag already. I think my ranting slightly scared him from the look on his face. "Sure, things happen. Let me find it."

Meanwhile, the other three continued to peer at me curiously like I was some puzzle to solve. I smiled back at them without thought, feeling like a spotlight was on my green and silver robes.

"You should have just asked Snivellus," Sirius remarked, looking at me coolly. "He's one of your kind, isn't he?"

"Padfoot!" James exclaimed, giving his friend a reproachful look. Across the table, Peter snickered in the background, enjoying the show.

I frowned absently, not recognizing the name. "Sorry, who?"

"Snivellus," Sirius repeated, in a manner that reminded me of how Drexel talked to me sometimes. Condescending. Arrogant. Snide. "I'm sure you know him. Severus Snape ring any bells?"

"Oh," I said, dumbfounded. "Well, yeah, I know him. But that's not a very nice name to call him, you know."

From behind me, Remus's shuffling noises grew quieter, and James abruptly cleared his throat. Peter gazed on in silent, forsaking his tittering.

"Does it matter?" Sirius's face broke into a sneer, his aristocratic features turning menacing in a second. "He's just another slimy Slytherin git like the rest of you. You're hardly one to judge."

My mouth fell the slightest bit open. It had been years since anyone had openly judged me this way, even with all the Slytherin pranks and mischief that I'd put up with through all the years. Because, ultimately, at the end of the day, my House knew that I was a good person, a fact which they either exploited or benefited from by the end of the day. This stung. This was pure ignorance. This was prejudice. This wasn't fair.

"You don't even know me," I said, the smile completely dropped off of my face. I'd lost track of time; I couldn't even remember how long I'd been standing here.

"And I don't need to," he drawled, his dark gray eyes locked on mine. "Your House tells me everything about you. I could read you like a book, blondie. So why don't you slither away like a good snake now, huh?"

A rush of emotion welled up in me, and my eyes prickled. I clenched my fists as my breathing grew shorter. This wasn't fair. How dare he judge me by my House? How dare he say that I was the same as the others? How dare he label me so blatantly? So ignorantly? So stupidly?

My jaw was locked, but somehow I managed to take a deep breath. I turned sharply to Remus who was holding the Prefect schedule with a stricken look on his face, his eyes remorseful. "Hilde—"

"Thank you, Remus," I said curtly, taking the sheet from his hand to turn back to the foe at hand. Observing him from his smug face to his shaggy black hair to his mincing gray eyes made me realize that I had never truly disliked anyone this strongly before. Not even Drexel's brothers when they shoved my weekly cupcakes back into my face. Not even my older sister after she had given me a look of utter distaste after my Sorting. Not even Snape when he told me to mind my own bloody business and stop trying to be so friendly with him.

Was this hate?

Our gazes met. His arrogant, mine defiant. I stepped towards him, aiming my words at him and him alone.

"I may be Slytherin," I said, pasting a smile on my face, "but, _thank Merlin_ , I'll never be as big of a bigot as you are now."

I walked away, feeling war torn yet accomplished. It was time to claim my favorite green chair.


	3. A Patrol to Remember

**Third installment, here we go! As usual, Hilde, Drexel, Amelia and such belong to me, but the rest belong to J.K. Rowling! If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to scream, shout, and let it all out in the reviews section. Hope you enjoy! Cheers!**

My insides were riddled with guilt as I curled up in my infamous armchair, watching the green flames in the fireplace across the common room crackle with life. (They were enchanted, of course. The Slytherin House would have never sanctioned Gryffindor colors in the common room.) I'd been sitting here almost all day practically, repeating my words from breakfast over and over again in my head like I was stuck in a constant loop.

Bigot. Bigot. Bigot.

It wasn't that Sirius hadn't been rude to me at the time (because he had been), nor was it that he hadn't warranted the word himself. It was just that the words had come out from my own mouth. My own supposedly goody-goody, genetically Hufflepuff mouth.

 _And they were just so mean._

Mean. Mean. Mean.

Awful. Awful. Awful.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Mulling over the thought that I might be a hypocrite, I'd sat in my rightful chair for hours on end, longer than ever before. Thankfully, the fact that it just so happened to be a Saturday allowed me to pull off this pensive feat, but I'd unintentionally attracted quite the attention in the common room despite my dull antics. Throughout the day, I'd garnered around eighty different glances and stares from my fellow Slytherins, some interested, some haughty, some curious, some confused.

I think I might have actually received a couple concerned looks too. One fifth-year girl actually approached me and asked if I was okay, which was a wonder in itself. A bit overexcited by her concern, I might have smiled too widely in response, causing her to back away from me with a grimace on her face.

It was progress at least. They'd noticed I wasn't my typical, happy-go-lucky self. That was something.

Drexel, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. The last time I saw him was when he'd been sneaking out of the Great Hall to trail after Amelia Potter. Merlin knows he was probably trailing her some more right now. I had been hoping for a progress report though…

I frowned into the flames, hoping that I'd given him enough time to make contact with her. I'd tried to stall as long as I could, at least until Sirius got in the way and botched my friendly encounter.

A pair of legs stopped in front of my eye line, interrupting my mesmeric stare with the fire. Registering the baggy gray slacks and height, I concluded the object was a boy and slowly slid my gaze upwards to view the mystery boy's face.

A sallow face with a hooked nose gazed back at me, complete with an arched brow. His hair was messily pushed back behind his ears, a few dark strands astray. I blinked at his sudden appearance.

"Hello, Severus," I chirped, my friendly nature kicking in despite my morose mood, and a smile slipped onto my face. I'd tried to be friends with Severus Snape so many times over the years, and he'd always pushed me away like the other Slytherins, so this was…new. But welcome. I mentally imagined the fun conversations about Potions that we would have and the future inside jokes we'd share. It seem promising in my head. Logical, even.

His eyebrow remained raised. "What exactly are you doing?"

A curious tone, coming from him. Severus almost sounded interested in my life. I could work with that.

"Oh, not much," I responded, leaning back into my oh-so-wonderful armchair, relishing in its extreme plushness. "I've mainly just been reflecting on life, contemplating my general attitude and such. What about you? What have you been up to?"

Was this my breakthrough moment with him? Would our friendship suddenly blossom from this exchange of words?

"Clearly," Severus said, a sneer encroaching upon his face, "you've misunderstood. What I meant, Puff, is what are you doing here in the common room at this hour?"

His confrontational tone took me by surprise, and I was taken aback.

My smile shrank at the realization that he, indeed, was still not interested in friendship. "Pardon?"

"Merlin, you are oblivious," he said monotone. "The Prefect schedule. Your patrol started a quarter of an hour ago if you'd bothered to check."

"Merlin!" I jumped up, my mouth gaping. I hadn't even glanced at the schedule Remus gave me earlier; I'd been too caught up in analyzing my own past actions. Scrambling, I threw on my robes and badge that I'd taken off. "Thank you, Severus! You really didn't have to do that, but I'm grateful!"

"I was only doing my duty as Prefect," he drawled. "Don't think it personal. I'd rather not have to dock points off of my own House for your tardiness."

"No, but seriously," I paused in my chaotic dance to examine him further. "You didn't have to remind me. Thank you."

A blank soulless stare was given to me in return. I refused to fidget.

"You know," I continued. "I don't think you're the person you pretend to be. Sure, you hang out with all the big bad Slytherins and perform loads of dark magic, but I think deep down, you're a good guy, Severus. You have a good heart. You care."

"I suggest that you don't pretend as if you actually know me," he said, turning away, his black robes fluttering.

"You're not Snivellus!" I shouted to his retreating back. He froze suddenly, his back tense, and I was afraid that I'd said the wrong thing, that it'd been the wrong subject to bring up.

"I mean," I backtracked, bunching the edges of my robes in my fists, "don't let them define you like that. You create who you want to be; you're the one in control of your destiny. Besides, actions speak louder than words, right?"

Severus pivoted then strode in my direction with a dark expression, stopping a foot away from me. Drawing his black wand, he stuck it directly under my chin, poking my throat with an undeniable pressure. I took a deep breath to keep myself from gulping in fear.

"Do you think," Severus sneered, "that I need a Hufflepuff's advice? You're one to talk. You're an outcast outside of your own family, your own House, and even your own classmates. Your so-called friends are fleeting acquaintances, and based on your surname, you consider yourself to be better than your entire House. Have you ever considered for one second why the Sorting Hat placed you in Slytherin? That it didn't make a mistake in putting you in here with the rest of us? Because if you haven't, you truly need to give yourself another look in the mirror and drop the self-righteous act, because it's getting quite irritating."

My voice felt stuck in my throat, deep and raspy like I was choking on my own words. "It's not an act. I'm not like you; I'm not acting."

"Ah," Severus gave me a sickly sweet smile. "And there's your narcissistic sense of superiority raising its head again. How frequently it appears when you're confronted with the truth."

I grasped for words, seeking a way to convey to him that no, this was who I truly was, but none came to mind. Was that what everyone else thought of me? What they thought I was like? I stood stock still in silence, staring at him in defeat.

Severus's coal black eyes glazed over me dismissively, bored with his entertainment as soon as he'd just begun. He slowly withdrew his wand, sliding it back into his pocket. "Don't you have Prefect duties to attend to, Puff? As fascinating as this conversation is, I have other matters to deal with, your personal issues beside, such as going to bed."

"Of course," I muttered, marching almost robotically away. I was nearly a half an hour later to patrol now, so I proceeded to powerwalk to the Prefect meetup point at the base of the staircase. Ripping out my Prefect schedule, I checked quickly to see who I'd be matched up with for the night, aka also the person who would be extremely annoyed with me. My mind still whirling from Severus's revelation, my eyes scanned down the page only to find that I'd been partnered with…

Remus Lupin.

Merlin, he was bound to think that I was completely loony. After all, I mean, I did borrow his own Prefect schedule only to not exactly use it. After all that'd happened today, I felt even more like a failure than ever, so I increased my speed.

Jogging now, I raced up from the Slytherin common room to the meetup point only to see…

Nothing. No one. Nada.

A giant staircase stared down at me void of any witches or wizards whatsoever.

Sighing, I supposed that Remus must have already left to complete the rounds. Typically, Prefect pairs would split up the castle into two sections and patrol each half by themselves, but in cases like these, anything was up for grabs. Twirling a finger around, I chose a direction at random, hoping that I'd run into Remus soon so that I could apologize for my lateness. And perhaps also give him back his schedule.

Mounting the staircase, I listened to my footsteps echoed throughout the castle, my mind still racing over Severus's comments in my head. Is that why no one in Slytherin took any of my attempts for friendship seriously? Because they thought I was a fraud?

I settled on patrolling the fourth floor, wandering idly down the corridor while keeping an eye out for students out of bed.

Was I a fraud? Was I being nice just to be nice? Or was it because I wanted people to think that I was nice?

Or was it to make my parents proud? To prove that, perhaps, despite getting Sorted into one of the darkest Houses in Hogwarts, that I was still a good person underneath? Or the same person underneath that I was before?

My mind was muddled, and I was utterly and desperately confused. Why couldn't I just be nice, just because? Why was it considered a crime or a fraud? Why couldn't I just be who I wanted to be?

"What's wrong with that?" I whispered to myself, walking calmly down the corridor with nothing but suits of armor in sight. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts, I continued down the hallway, ready to switch over to the fifth floor when I heard a giggle.

A muffled, feminine giggle, as clear as day. I paused, cocking my head like a tracking dog to see if I could locate to where it was coming from. Taking a few stealthy steps forward, the giggle grew louder, seeming to emanate from a lone storage closet up ahead. A light shush followed the enthusiastic sound, verifying that there was not one but two students out of bed.

Oh, Merlin. I thought.

Two students plus a storage closet plus the late hour did not appeal to me the slightest, but alas, it was my duty. I approached the door, my hand hovering over its brass knob hesitantly. Wouldn't it be rude to enter without warning?

So, feeling particularly polite, I knocked. Twice.

All noise from the closet went silent. I desperately hoped that the couple would be using this time to compose themselves and come out on their own accord in a slightly more graceful manner.

"Remus," a deep voice sounded from inside the infamous closet, "I told you to avoid the fourth floor for _at least_ an hour, mate. I can work fast, Moony, but not that fast. Have a little pity for—"

I opened the door abruptly, regardless of the consequences, unwilling to listen to any more excuses. I'd already guessed who one of the occupants of the closet was anyway.

As expected, I revealed a bedraggled-looking Sirius with a mildly attractive Ravenclaw girl attached to his chest, both their lips a raw red. His shirt was fully unbuttoned, her blue and bronze tie was on the floor; it wasn't hard to imagine what had been going on in here. Personally, I dreaded these situations because of their pure awkwardness, but I varied my technique every so often to evoke different reactions every time. After all, no one likes to see a Prefect after hours.

"Hi," I said, raising a hand in faux-greeting. "I'm not Remus."

The girl squeaked a little belatedly, and Sirius blinked, then after recognizing my face from earlier, scowled. He brushed a hand through his messy dark hair in what I thought was an irritated gesture, smoothing it into something more presentable. Or not. A few strands still stuck out in random directions, reminding me of tinsel on a Christmas tree.

"What are you doing here?" He drawled, looping his arms further around the girl. "Can't you see we're busy? It's rude to interrupt such intimate matters last time I checked."

"And last time I checked, it's a bad idea to be out of bed after hours, especially when a Prefect happens upon you and your intimate matters, Mr. Black." I tapped my shiny badge for authority, relishing in his further annoyed expression. I was in no mood to be sugar-sweet-nice right now. I was conducting business. "Now as for both of you, fifteen points from Gryffindor and fifteen from Ravenclaw. I suggest you get yourselves back to bed, or I'll be deducting even more."

To this, Sirius rolled his eyes, and the Ravenclaw girl looked like she was about to cry. I felt a little bad for her, really.

"Oh," I added, "And fix yourselves up before you go too. You're lucky I didn't take points for your indecency as well."

"Lucky is one word for it," Sirius drawled, still leaning against the closet wall. The Ravenclaw snatched her tie off of the floor and was busying herself in buttoning up her collar and making herself presentable. Her breathing was heavy enough to hear, so I surmised that this might have been the first time she'd ever been caught breaking the rules. Sirius made no such moves, choosing to stay in his lounging position, keeping his eyes on me. From what I could tell, it was a belligerent stare.

"I'm sorry, this will never happen again," the Ravenclaw piped out, squeezing by me in the doorway. She hesitated for a moment to turn back and look at Sirius questioningly.

"I'll catch you later, love," he dismissed her, giving her a quick wink. Sending a smile in return, she scurried away into the corridor to return to her high-lofted common room. A few seconds later, her footsteps were too far to be heard.

"Well," I said, still standing at the doorway. "Are you going to get dressed or are you waiting for someone else?"

Sirius threw me a side glance then proceeded to grasp the bottoms of his shirt, matching up the buttons. "Where's Remus?"

His tone was undiscernible, and I watched as he slowly buttoned his shirt from bottom up. His fingers were nimble, but he took his time on each individual fastening.

"Patrolling," I replied in the same neutral tone. "I just happened to discover your hiding-spot first as it so happens. Although it seems as if Remus got a heads up to avoid your location in general."

"He was supposed to have headed his partner off as well," Sirius said, still focused on his clothing. "Throw them off my scent and such."

I scoffed a bit at that, wondering how often Remus helped his friends in bypassing school rules. "I was late to the meetup. I haven't even seen him tonight."

"Ah," Sirius's head snapped up, his gray eyes glittering. "So Little Miss Goody-Goody Snake isn't as perfect as she seems. How predictable. In fact, it's rather to be expected."

"Look," I started, taking a breath. "I—"

"After all," he continued, interrupting me, "who can trust a snake? Slippery things, you are."

"Excuse me, I'm trying to say something here," I retorted. "I just—"

"You just what?" He rolled his eyes dramatically, finishing up his final button. "You just want to insist on how 'I don't really know you?' Or how you're different? Or are you going to do something more, like threaten me? That'd be interesting. I'd like to see what spells you could weave. Maybe we could even duel, and fight over which House is better. The great Gryffindor versus Slytherin battle, where—"

"I was just trying to apologize!" I shouted, a bit louder than I'd expected the statement to come out. My cheeks burned with embarrassment at my volume as well as my shout's content, and I wondered if I should retract it.

Too late now.

Sirius wore a puzzled expression, his brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

I bit my lip briefly then committed to my apology. There was no going back now. "I wanted to apologize for calling you a bigot earlier this morning. It was mean, and even though you probably deserved it, it wasn't right to call you that. I was just basing it off of the comments you made towards me, but the truth is, is that I don't know you either. So, yeah. Sorry."

His eyes scanned me up and down, unsure of what to think. In fact, Sirius's whole body language betrayed his surprise. His hands, now holding his gold and red tie, were frozen by his sides, and his mouth had even dropped open a little.

"What are you playing at?" He asked, still eyeing me. "I've never seen a Slytherin apologize before. It's unsettling."

"I did it, because I wanted to, not because I wanted something," I said. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"In all actuality, yes," Sirius responded with a straight face. "With all the experience that I've had around Slytherins growing up, I can honestly say that people don't change, Slytherins the least of all. So, yes. I don't believe you, not for a second. It's practically ingrained in my blood not to trust you."

My heart sank. Could no one see me as anything but Slytherin?

"Well," I smiled weakly. "You're missing out on a good apology then. Your loss, I guess."

I turned away before he could even finish putting on his tie.

"What's your name, blondie?" His low voice called out from behind me. He seemed conversational almost. I debated for a few seconds what I should tell him, but I quickly settled on the most appropriate.

"Just call me Puff," I called back over my shoulder.


	4. Distraction by Flight

**Hey, guys, I'm back! As usual, all my characters like Hilde belong to me, but the rest don't! Any urge to scream, shout, comment, or whisper is entirely welcome! Cheers!**

Drexel approached me the next day when I was at the library. He looked more frazzled than usual; his typical coiffed dark hair was mussed and he appeared out of breath, panting almost as he reached my table.

"I need your assistance," he said, attempting to quell his panting by taking quick short breaths. " _Now."_

"And hello to you too," I said, closing my Herbology book with a snap. "Oh, and thank you for asking; yes, my day has been pleasant. Yesterday, however, ehh…" I paused, dramatically shrugging my shoulders. "Not so much. Have you ever caught Sirius Black snogging a Ravenclaw in a broom closet? No? Me either; it's not the most delightful of experiences."

"Black?" Drexel wrinkled his nose. "What? Nevermind. As pertaining to our deal, I require your assistance of this very second. Amelia's at the Quidditch pitch, and I need to lure her away from those nosy Gryffindors."

"And just how am I going to help you accomplish this?" I queried, flipping the pages of my book idly. Herbology was my least favorite of subjects, a fact that my Hufflepuff family couldn't seem to comprehend. Plants, they'd say. How could you not like plants? I'd always shaken my head in disgust at them. Yes, plants, I'd say. They're dirty and creepy and crawly. How could one like them, besides flowers, of course?

That said, I surmised that it must be the Slytherin in me.

"You're going to be a distraction again," he said. "The Slytherin team is holding tryouts on the Quidditch pitch; that's why the Gryffindors are there. Barely anyone is trying out, and it's hilarious to them."

"And?" I questioned. "I come in where exactly?"

"Honestly," he rolled his eyes, "do I have to spell it out for you, Puff? You're going to try out for the team? Give them something, anything to focus on, while I sneak Amelia away. It's simple, really. Just give them a show."

"But—" I attempted to protest.

"But nothing." Drexel eyed me, giving me a dark look that shouldn't be possible for an eleven year-old. "Or do you not desire the rights to your chair in the common room anymore?"

So that's how I ended up on the Quidditch pitch, dressed in the most athletic robes that I owned, shuffling along with a used broomstick from the communal Hogwarts stash. I loitered at the sidelines, watching a third-year flip over backwards in the air and fall off of his broom. The Slytherin team sneered from down below on the field, and the team captain, Martin Greengrass, spat in disgust.

To the side, laughter roared from the stands. A moderately sized group of Gryffindors, including the Marauders and Amelia, was dying of amusement and of the Slytherin team's frustration in their inability to find a decent new player.

I merely cringed, watching the beet red third-year brush himself off quickly, then run off the field in a rush of panic.

"What position am I even trying out for again?" I whispered to Drexel who, standing beside me, looked on with a calculative eye. His green sweater vest screamed the opposite of Quidditch.

"Beater, I think," he responded. "The one where you hit Bludgers at the players. Quite easily the most violent position, I should think."

" _Beater_?" I gaped. "Are you serious? Do you even know me?"

He smirked back at me. "Not entirely, but I do know what you can do _for me_. And in that case, that happens to be buying me at least fifteen minutes of distraction, so make it good."

I grimaced, looking at the Slytherin team on the field, from tall, blond Greengrass to the two, bulky dunderheads, Marcus Crabbe and Hugo Goyle. Gangly and crooked-toothed Ewan Flint was throwing a Quaffle to Thomas Avery, a sixth-year in my class, while Leopold Nott merely stood bored to the side. We'll just say that none of them seemed to be particular fans of me.

"Anyone else?" Greengrass hollered. "Anyone bloody else have wizarding balls to try out?" The Gryffindors tittered in the background, and I thought I heard James Potter yell out an inappropriate remark.

"Your turn, Puff" Drexel said quaintly, giving me a disproportionally large shove for his small frame forward. I stumbled onto the field and into the eyesight of all six Slytherin players, feeling very out of place and very uncomfortable. So what did I do?

I smiled for all that I was worth.

"Hi, boys," I grinned, practically baring my teeth at them. "I'm here to try out."

I swear the whole pitch went silent at my sudden appearance, and I twitched as all eyes landed on me. But my grin did not falter. In fact, I think it widened quite too much as a result from all my nervous energy.

"Well, well, well," Greengrass crossed his arms, looking at me down his nose. "What do we have here? An ickle badger come to fly for the snakes?"

I stood straighter, refusing to show weakness in front of them as I strode further onto the center of the field. As I neared them, they began to circle me, appraising me from every angle. Still grinning, I situated myself in front of the captain, watching his blank expression.

"I don't think badgers can fly," Flint cackled, from my right.

Avery chuckled in response from my left. "I thought they were only good at finding things."

"Funny," Nott snickered. "I seem to have lost something. It's rather hard and long, shaped like a—"

I cut him off before he could finish his crude joke, my grin majorly dimmed. "I never claimed to be a badger. I came here to try out for a spot on the team, so if you're going to let me try out, let me try out. I'm as Slytherin as any one of you."

Silence again as the boys appraised me. Well, except for Crabbe and Goyle; they were off laughing stupidly at me to the side.

Greengrass examined me, then jerked his head to the side. "Up you go then. Prove to me that you're one of us, Puff, and you got the spot."

I nodded at him, mounting my broomstick.

Now this would be the precise moment to show them all up, to prove my skills, to wow them once and for all. This would be my personal moment of triumph. My chance to prove myself as one of them, a Slytherin at heart.

Now if I only knew how to fly properly. Sadly, this remained one of my only skills that I lacked finesse; I mean, I knew _how_ to fly. I'd flown with my sister and little brother plenty of times, but I'd always been the slowest, clumsiest, most unorthodox flier. For one mini-Quidditch game between us, I'd ridden my broom completely backwards the whole time, managing to fly into three pigeons, a dove, and a weathervane.

A second before taking off, I prayed to Merlin that I wouldn't make the biggest fool out of myself. Being a little fool, I could handle. That would prove distraction enough to Drexel and not cause enough damage to my already badgered reputation.

With that thought in mind, I vaulted into the air, managing to steady myself enough to hover a few meters over my fellow Slytherins. Success! I'd barely wobbled.

"Congratulations," Greengrass drawled, vaulting up upon his own broom and soaring into the air beside me with a practiced ease. "You've already beaten about half of the blokes that have tried out already. Let's see what you can do now." He handed me a short, blunt Beater's stick and kept the other for himself. Smirking, he flew away from me, signaling down to the team with a snap.

Glancing below, I observed Flint unfastening the Bludgers which were already straining at their bonds, eager to be released.

"What am I supposed to do?" I yelled over to the captain, a tremor in my voice.

He shrugged back at me almost playfully. "Do what comes naturally."

Utterly confused, I glanced into the stands to see if I could identify Drexel or anyone else, but they were too far away, appearing as little blurs. High-pitched screams filled the air, and it was then that I saw that the Bludgers case was now empty. Flint stared up at me with a filthy grin, waving his fingers.

Both Bludgers were free?!

Hearing a shriek heading towards me, I darted to the left, narrowly avoiding an oncoming little demon-ball which flew past me, ruffling my hair. Looking around, I saw it circling around only to come back towards me again. Urging my broom forward, I sped ahead of it, racing away. The scream once again alerted me of its proximity though, so somehow I executed an upside-down loop in order to get away, clinging to my broomstick with all my might.

Coming out of the loop, I saw the Bludger go straight past me, missing me entirely. Grinning, I raised a fist in triumph when I felt a boulder-like object slam into my shoulder, pushing me forward.

"Merlin," I swore, soaring away from the other Bludger that I'd conveniently forgotten about. My shoulder was now throbbing, echoing with pain from the impact.

"Might want to defend yourself," Greengrass shouted over, holding his bat in the air. I slowly came to suspect that he'd sent the offending Bludger my way, so I grin-grimaced back at him. Laughter emanated from the ground, pierced with a few jeering comments sent my way.

Hesitantly, I switched my grip, holding the bat in my right hand while clinging onto my broom with my left. I tried to ignore the pain that resulted from this hold; it was straining my injured shoulder.

Two screams came towards me at the same time, so I wobblingly dove down, unsteady on my own new hold of my broom. One of the devil-balls was smart enough to follow me.

Taking a breath in my efforts to confront the Bludger, I took too quick of a turn on my broom which sent me flying off, gripping the shaft of my broom one-handedly with the rest of my body dangling below. Right in front of me, I saw the Bludger aiming straight for my face. Reflexively, or perhaps instinctually, I raised my bat and swung with all my might, hitting the offending Bludger in the complete opposite direction.

A couple cheers rose from the stands as I heard Greengrass curse from a distance. I took the time to put my bat in my mouth to clutch onto my broom with my other hand as well. I was in the middle of attempting to mount my broom when another piercing scream approached, of course, another Bludger coming for me.

Grunting (for the bat was still in my mouth), I swung myself from my broom in a downward motion to kick away the devil-ball, feeling its impact reverberate all the way up my right leg. The tiny crack that I'd heard too didn't comfort me the slightest, although the Bludger's decidedly new direction did.

Using all my strength, I pulled myself up to re-mount my broom finally only to see Greengrass grinningly hit both Bludgers toward me, mere seconds apart. Merlin, I thought. When would this end? I seemed to be in a sort of survival mode which messed with my head, causing me to fly towards the Bludgers themselves.

Yells from both the ground and stands alerted me of my insanity, but I was too far gone. My shoulder ached and my right leg was far too numb to care. All I had to do was put on a good show.

Swinging, I hit the first Bludger straight back into the second, causing them to both fly off in different directions, ricocheting across the field. Greengrass gave me a small yet impressed raise of his blond eyebrows in response. Without looking, he used his bat to hit one of the Bludgers again, aiming it towards me.

Still flying forward, I beat it back towards him, feeling all of the muscles in my arm working to their utmost extreme. When was the last time I'd worked out as hard as this?

Not expecting my fast parry to his attack, the Bludger caught the handle of his broomstick and send him into a tailspin, spinning him round and round in an amusingly dizzy manner. In fact, it was so hilarious that I started to chuckle myself, and the glare he gave me afterwards only served to increase it.

Was I actually having fun? I thought.

All of this was all fun and games until I felt the overwhelming Bludger-sized force crash into the back of my head. For a split-second, there was shock then pain, and then everything went black. The last sensation I remembered was of falling, dropping down through the air like a rock.


End file.
